Swan Song
by Acteon Carolsfeld
Summary: Last struggles of life are always truest. Tailgate only wished he'd had one last chance. Pairings: Cyclogate. CD-R.


**Warnings:** MTMTE 32 SPOILERS, major character death, blood, gore, angst, edited in haste

Continuity: MTMTE, _Alternate Timeline/Reality Lost Light_

* * *

****Important Note**** - This fic is written based on the theory on Tumblr that Tarn is actually Dominus Ambus

* * *

_Swan Song_

The screaming wailed down the corridor.

It muffled the shriek of the siren, drowned out the patters of their peds.

"…It's too late. It's too late." Chromedome spluttered. His hand trembled in Rewind's fingers.

"Stop that!" The minibot snapped, gaze spearing ahead, way from the drying splatters of gut on the walls. "We'll get to the escape pods. We'll get out of here. It's not us they're after. If we just keep running—"

A canon blast punched through the ceiling. A rain of sparks spat down as the light charred upon impact.

Rewind cried out, wrapping his arms over his faceplate.

Chromedome tugged him close, and shielded the archivist from the clattering of debris.

"We have to hurry." Rewind pulled away from his _endura_. His intakes stuttered. "They're gaining on us." He looked around the larger mech's hip, at the other Autobots behind them, clamoring for the very same destination.

Metal squealed as a bot clawed at the floor, dragged by his ankles toward the behemoth with the churning smelting pool. Digits left streaks of glowing purple, but they were not enough.

Rewind yanked his helm away from the gurgling scream, and took his _endura_'s hand.

His knees shook.

"C'_mon_, Domey!" He led the way.

Chromedome was fixated on the carnage. He's always had a hard time looking away, but his grip around the archivist's fingers tightened.

"We're too slow. Climb on my back."

The mnemosurgeon transformed. Rewind crawled on.

Energon slicked the floor. Veering around corners often resulted in crashing into crumpled corpses. They didn't have time to check the faces. The mangled gapes of terror blurred as they sped for the escape pods.

They seemed to be the first to have arrived. The pods were intact, free of littering body parts. Rewind jumped off just as his _endura_ shifted back into root-mode. He dashed for the closest shuttle, and typed his code into the keypad.

The doors slid open.

"Take the steer!" He pointed. "I'll set us up for launch." He hopped into the seat before the console, and activated the screen.

Chromedome followed. He slid into the driver's chair, and started the preliminary checks, tapping in the commands on the hologram as he glanced back at the door.

"We're clear!" He shouted over the rising hum of warming engines.

"Initiating ejection sequence." Rewind announced.

_Ten_.

The doors began to close.

_Nine_.

Rewind sprung out of his seat.

_Eight_.

He ran for the co-pilot.

_Seven_.

Chromedome looked toward him.

_Six_.

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" The mnemosurgeon asked.

_Five_.

Rewind strapped himself in.

_Four_.

"There aren't any others." He answered.

_Three_.

Chromedome dragged his gaze ahead, and nodded.

_Two_.

He ran a deep intake.

_On_—

CLUNK.

Alarms blared on.

"_Warning: hull breach. Warning: hull breach._"

Red flashed inside the shuttle.

"What in the pits is it talking about?!" Chromedome swept his visor over the pod.

_Screeeeeeeeeeech_.

Rewind froze.

His breathing caught.

His optics, wide behind his visor, strained on the door, which wrinkled and squealed as thick digits pried.

No…

His lips quivered apart behind his facemask.

No…!

His fingers dug into the handles of his chair.

Chromedome swirled around in his seat, a wheezing heave of a gasp filtering through his intakes.

"—Rewind!" He shouted.

The same moment the doors slammed apart to the fuel-soaked grins of the DJD.

* * *

"C-Cyclonus…"

Cyclonus paused from inspecting the hallway, and looked over his shoulder.

Tailgate was leaning against a hall, ventilation cycling a hitching whirr.

"I—I don't think," The minibot's chassis rose and fell, "I don't think I can run anymore."

Cyclonus pursed his lips. He turned around.

"You should've let me carry you since the beginning." He strode toward the disposal unit, and set down the ship-grade blaster he found in Brainstorm's lab. "You shouldn't exert yourself." He knelt down, reaching toward the smaller mech.

Tailgate shook his helm, bowed over.

"No." He labored through his gasping breaths. "You should've left me in the medibay." The minibot swallowed. "You should've—…left," The visor flickered as it peered from under the white cowl, "…when you had the chance."

Cyclonus froze, for a split second.

His claws hovered in the air.

"…Don't be ridiculous." He curled his lips, and snatched the disposal unit by the arms. "The escape shuttles are only one level down. We will—"

"-Cyclonus, I'm _dying_." Tailgate looked up, gaze wide, brimmed by moisture. "Even if we survive this, I—" He gave his helm another shake, "I only have three days left to live."

Cyclonus bit his jaws.

His wings trembled.

"…We will get to the pods." He told the little bot, "We will leave, and we will be safe." He stared into the blue visor. "We will make our way straight to the nearest space station, and I will buy us a ship."

"—No. No, Cyclonus-"

He grabbed the disposal unit by the shoulders.

"There's a med-center specializing in terminal illnesses a mere two systems away." He gritted. "We will go there, and we will have you treated, and we will stay there as long as you need because I will not—"

"-Cyclonus-"

"-I will _not_ watch you _die_!"

His bellow echoed in the empty corridor.

His hands shook, clutched around white plating.

Tailgate gaped at him, still, silent.

"…I don't want you to watch me die either, Cyclonus." The minibot whimpered. "But it's gonna happen sooner or later."

Cyclonus could no longer hold the dim, blue gaze. He tore his optics from the little bot, and ducked his helm.

Tailgate was watching him.

"…I can't feel my legs anymore…"

The jet startled. His faceplate snapped up.

Coolant welled over the rim of the blue visor.

"…I'm so _scared_," The tiny trickle of a voice wavered, "…that in a few seconds, I won't be able to _see_ you anymore either…!"

Cyclonus's intakes heaved.

The knot inside his chassis clenched tighter.

"Shush." He jerked his gaze away, and scooped his arms around the smaller mech. "That won't happen." He gathered the shivering bundle of limbs close against his chest. "I'll make sure it doesn't."

A splutter of sobs answered.

"I'm so glad to have met you, Cyclonus…" Tiny, white hands wrapped around his shoulders.

Cyclonus tucked the small helm against the crook his neck.

"Me too, Tailgate." He whispered as he stood up on his peds.

"…Me too."

* * *

A scream pierced through the rumbling laughter of glee.

"No!" Rewind cried as large hands tore him from his _endura_. "No! Domey! _Domey_!" He bucked and kicked in the grip imprisoning him, digging his fingers into the thick digits clamped around his torso until his brittle joints ached.

Chromedome did not utter a single word. His visor shone with panic, joints frozen rigid as his legs lowered toward the swirling grinding blades.

"Please! I'll do anything!" The minibot thrashed, optics stretched until their edges hurt. "Take my archive!" He implored the leader, the one holding him at bay. "I have information you'll want. I record everything. Take it. Take all of it!" His voice pinched.

The leader, the one wearing the Decepticon emblem as a face, regarded him, a simmering glint in the red flicker.

"…Please don't take him away." The archivist pleaded, hands wringing around the fingers tight around his waist. "Don't take away my _endura_…!"

The mech with the churning blades paused.

"…Tarn?" He asked, jolting his victim out of his daze.

Chromedome started to shake. His armor rattled.

"He's right. He has information you'll want." The mnemosurgeon stared at the execution awaiting him. "He's more useful alive. You won't be disappointed." He jerked toward the leader, visor ablaze with terror. "I'm a mech looking at death straight in the optics." He said. "I have no reason to lie."

Tarn turned, and cast him a glance.

Rewind bristled, horror seizing his breath to a stall.

"Shut _up_, you grime-guzzling idiot!" He screamed. "Shut up shut up _shut up_!" He scratched at the fingers around his torso. "Don't listen to him! He's the one you'll want to keep!" He beat at the arm to catch the leader's attention. "He's a _mnemosurgeon_." The minibot gaped at the masked face. "He has skills that will prove valuable to you! Much more than me!" He begged, begged until his vision blurred, until his chassis buckled forward from the burn inside his spark chamber.

Tarn watched him, optics dim.

With a single nod of his helm, Chromedome fell into the blades.

Parts flew.

Energon burst.

Chromedome's scream filled the chamber, ripped with static.

Rewind shrieked, until his vocalizer scraped raw, tiny fists battering against the hands keeping him from his _endura_.

"Domey—" He reached for the convulsing mnemosurgeon. "_Domey_—!" He bucked and clawed at the thick digits around his torso, tears spilling from his cheeks as he threw about his frame with all the strength he could muster to free himself, to bolt to his _endura_'s side, to save him.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

Stop.

_Stop_.

"No—!"

Chromedome shuddered in spasms. Entails splat against the floor. Bits of internals spun from the blades. Fresh energon, laced with fluids, spurted outward in rings of glimmering purple.

Droplets splashed warm on Rewind's cheeks.

The minibot screamed, and swiped at the leader's face, a digit gouging a scratch on the mask.

Tarn startled. His optics widened.

"-Die! _Die_!" Rewind spat and lashed out with his limited reach, EM field seething around his tiny frame.

"—Die!"

He knew, the exact moment his _endura_'s spark gave, the exact second the blades claimed the strumming life connected to his own.

And the pain.

The agony.

It cleaved him.

Shredded through his core.

And rage.

Vengeance.

It scalded through him, a soaring wave blistering fire through his fuel lines.

He no longer knew what he was shouting. His entire being cinched into the single urge to kill, to maim, to make them _suffer_, and when the masked fiend pressed him tight against a broad shoulder, he bit and tore and scratched and—

"-_Rewind_."

A familiar voice, one he hasn't heard in millennia, whispered against his audial.

He froze.

The single call of his designation gutted him.

"…No." His breath quavered.

"…It's not…It's not possible…"

The voice, it punctured his center. The world returned, crashing around him, its weight winding his intakes.

His hands were drenched in energon. It stringed between his digits as he stared down at his palms, visor crackling light.

His intakes hitched in bursts.

Energon rushed hot to his head.

That voice.

It was no mistake.

That voice.

It was—

It-It was-

A scream gurgled from his chassis. It erupted past his parted lips. He clutched his faceplate. Splatters of blood against his cheeks.

Bots were yelling.

They were a mere murmur against the shrieks ringing from his vocalizer.

It wasn't possible.

Otherwise would be too cruel.

His cries brimmed the chamber, filled the recesses of his mind.

It shattered him. Toppled his will.

Chromedome's helm clunked against the floor. Digits ripped off his facemask, and placed his brain module into his mouth.

Rewind watched.

He watched.

His camera blinked red.

He could not stop screaming.

He did not stop until a hand beat against the back of his helm, and blackened his vision.

He wilted, limp.

Unconscious.

To the sensation of large hands thumbing the tears from his cheeks.

* * *

When they reached the escape pods, a massacre awaited them.

Cyclonus pressed Tailgate's helm against his armor, and did not relent no matter how much the minibot squirmed and asked what was going on.

"The shuttles have been compromised." The jetformer took a full sweep of the docking bay. "We can't use them."

Tailgate froze.

"We must find another way to leave the ship." Cyclonus stated, and turned away from the patchwork of internals across the consoles.

"What other ways are there?" The minibot's voice thinned. "It's too late. We tried, but it's too late." He struggled against the pressure against his head, and perked up when the jet relinquished. "You should _go_, Cyclonus." The blue visor shone, despite the uneven flickering. "You don't need the pods. You can fly."

Cyclonus frowned. His lips parted.

"No." Tailgate cut in, tiny digits covering the jetformer's mouth. "You tried, and that's enough, really." The disposal unit smiled through the gleam in his gaze. "Leave me here. It's the only way for you to escape."

"I'm not leaving you." Cyclonus shook free of the little hand. "I swore to never leave your side."

"That was before. Things are different now." Tailgate argued. "_Please_. You have to leave. _Now_. It's not worth it. To die with me is not worth it!"

Cyclonus did not reply. He kept walking down the hall.

"…Where're you going?" Tailgate looked around, and flinched when he saw the corpses.

"To the engine room." The jet answered. "We'll be safe there. We can hide until they're gone."

"But—"

"They have no reason to go to the engine room." The flier clutched the smaller bot firm against his chassis. "We'll be safe. I'll stay with you until it's over."

There was a tremor in the strong arms cradling the little bot.

Tailgate stayed silent, and made a single nod.

There was no question as to which "it" the jet had meant.

Each passing second was a threat on his spark.

The trek to the engine room was in complete silence. Cyclonus was light on his peds. He knew how to navigate around the screams, and his wings caught the slightest disturbance in the air, aiding him to find the best alternative routes.

They arrived, safe. The jetformer knelt on the floor, and set the minibot down. Tailgate clutched the silver claws. Cyclonus took a seat beside him.

Minutes ticked by.

The jet heaved his intakes every time he opened his mouth to speak.

However, he could not utter a single word. Every syllable caught in his throat, strangled by a croak.

The engines hummed. The ventilation shafts cycled wafts of cool air.

Tailgate jerked. His intakes hitched.

"C-Cyclonus? Cyclonus?!"

Cyclonus started. He turned toward the minibot, and grabbed onto the reaching hands.

"I—I can't see!" Tailgate whimpered. "I can't see!"

"It's alright." Cyclonus gathered the smaller mech into his arms. "You're fine. I'm here."

"L-Let me look at you." The disposal unit wiggled, and the small hands, shaking, lifted toward his faceplate. "Please? Let me look at you one last time?"

Cyclonus gazed into the dark visor.

He bit down hard on his jaws.

"…Of course." He whispered, and guided the tiny digits to his face.

They cradled around his cheeks, mapped out the rise and dip of his features.

"…Cyclonus," The minibot frowned a little, "…Why is your face so wet?"

His vents spluttered.

His wings trembled.

"…It's—…It's energon." He gritted. "From…before, when I was fighting."

The touch paused. The visor peered up at him, unseeing.

"…Let me wipe them away?" A wavering smile. "I won't be able to later."

The words wrenched on his gut.

His expression crumbled, and he had to pull away from the small hands to hide his grimace. His lips parted to speak, but the shuddering in his ventilation choked his voice.

Cyclonus took out a polishing cloth, and gave it to the disposal unit.

Tailgate never once commented how the wetness never went away, no matter how much he dabbed.

The task was tough on a dying frame. It exhausted the minibot. The shivering arms fell, limp, and Tailgate let out a wavering ex-vent, flopping down against the jetformer's chassis.

Cyclonus held the tiny bundle of limbs, and buried his face against a small, white shoulder.

The warmth.

The gentle pulse of an EM field.

He wanted to feel them, as long as he could.

They stayed together. They waited.

The air stirred.

Cyclonus's optics flashed online.

The stiffening in his joints did not go unnoticed. Tailgate shifted, and raised his helm.

"Cyclonus? What's wrong?"

The flier's ventilation sped. His gaze blazed brighter.

There was no mistaking the steady whirr of heavy systems. The more massive the mech, the louder they were against a pair of wings. The DJD was getting closer and closer. Before long, stomps of peds came within audial range, and the minibot jerked, a gasp wheezing through his intakes.

"I-It's them." Tailgate clutched his charge. "It's them!" His voice pinched, frame rattling with fear.

"Quiet." Cyclonus wrapped his arms tighter around the little bot, gaze strained on the door. "They have no reason to visit the engine room. We'll be safe here."

Except the DJD was coming closer.

They weren't turning away.

"C-Cyclonus—!" Tailgate squeaked in a whimper, faceplate pressing smears of coolant against the jetformer's derma.

Cyclonus stared at the door, jaw joints clenched.

"…Stay here."

Tailgate stilled.

"…What…?"

"Stay here." Cyclonus instructed. "I'll draw them off."

"…What?" The minibot jolted, helm snapping up. "W-Wait—" He grabbed for the jet. "What do you _mean_ drawing them off?"

Cyclonus paid no heed to his words, and turned to put him down.

"Cyclonus!" The disposal unit clamored. "What do you mean _drawing them off_?!"

"Silence!" The flier hissed. "It's the only way. Don't make this harder than it is."

"N-No…No! Cyclonus! Don't leave me!" Tears welled over the dark visor. "Don't leave me!" Tiny digits clenched tight around silver claws, arms trembling.

"I have no choice!" Cyclonus whispered.

"You can stay!" Tailgate lifted his tear-streaked faceplate, toward the direction of the jet's voice. "You can stay. You promised to stay with me. You promised you won't leave!"

"It's just for a few minutes at most—"

"No!" The minibot shook his helm. "No! _No_!"

"Stop _stalling_ me." The claws tried to pry him off. "At this rate we'll both die!"

"Then run away!" The little bot cried out, though his voice came out a feeble rasp. "Run away! If you must leave at least do it so you will _live_!"

Cyclonus froze.

Tailgate struggled to breath, legs sprawled over the floor.

"…Before you go," He said, "I have to—…I-I have to…tell you something…"

His spark shivered.

Its light could barely sustain the burning lashing inside him.

"I should've…told you…" His chassis rose and fell with each laboring intake, "…a long time ago…"

He clutched the claws so hard that his digits hurt.

"…th-that I—…Cyclonus…I lo—"

"-_Stop_." Jet engines ground out a rev. The voice spat through clenched dentae.

"Cyclonus," The minibot yanked at his frame to tilt up, "I—"

"-Shush. Now." A hand wrapped over his facemask, muffling him. "Tell me when I return." The jetformer said.

"…Tell me when I return."

Then the warmth was gone.

Peds strode toward the door.

"Cyclonus—"

Tailgate reached, scooting crawls on the floor.

"C-Cyclonus—!" He called, but the doors slid apart and closed, regardless of his pleas.

Coolant spilled.

"…Cyclonus!"

The minibot curled on the floor, and cried, shoulders shivering.

He didn't know how long he'd lay there, in the dark, alone, when the doors slid open again, jolting a hitch from his intakes.

"…Cyclonus?" He called out, voice scratchy.

The thuds that approached him were too heavy to have belonged to a jet.

Tailgate froze.

His breathing gasped to a stop.

"…No…" He started to shake, not out of fear, not out of death looming closer and closer.

But of pain.

Of excruciating agony.

Over the realization.

Of what this must've meant.

"…No…!" Sobs squeezed his vocalizer, wheezed his voice.

Tears splattered puddles to the floor, but nothing, _nothing_, could assuage the drilling stab of loss grinding into the most tender of his core.

Tailgate wept, quivering, a tiny ball of helpless parts.

Cyclonus was gone, and he should've said it, should've _insisted_ to say it, while he still had a chance.

_I love you._

His intakes hiccupped as he was plucked from the floor and dangled in the air.

"…_You_ must be the one with the Cybercrosis." A voice crooned, musical in its lilts and ebbs.

Tailgate did not reply, vents bursting in curt coughs as tears washed down his cheeks.

The polishing cloth…Where was it?

Where was the last thing that Cyclonus had given him…?

His fingers twitched. He couldn't move his arms.

"I expected _more_, from how desperately he'd attempted to stop us from getting to you."

He did not reply.

What was there to say anymore?

"…He did not break," The voice was suddenly closer, "until we explained the reason we are here." It murmured. "There's someone in the basement. Someone we've hunted for vorns. And when he found out," There was a smile in the humming syllables, "he'd begged us – _pleaded_ that we spare you a slow death."

A tremor shot through the minibot's frame.

_Cyclonus_—

"He said you are innocent." The voice continued, "You do not know war." It purred. "You are ill. There is little purpose in prolonging your pain."

"…Why are you telling me this?" Tailgate croaked, sniffling.

The voice was silent.

The grip around him jerked in a clench.

"…So that you know of whom he begged for, moments before his own death." The timbre changed. It no longer sang. "So that you know," The thick digits tightened, "how he'd felt about you."

Coolant burned.

Freezing, wet tracks that prickled his derma, liquid that stung his blinded vision.

_I love you._

His tiny chassis rose with a gasp.

"Your death will be quick." The voice whispered.

A wall pressed against his back.

The hand held him by the helm.

He barely felt it, when something pierced through his chest.

Energon was warm.

It was _warm_.

But the wetness on Cyclonus's cheeks had been cold.

So cold.

Tailgate smiled.

Tears rolled down his cheeks one last time.

He knew.

He'd always known.

That Cyclonus had cared.

He'd cared.

_…I love you._

* * *

**Notes:** Reviews would be amazing. I'd love to know if this was effective. :)


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